When Angels Fall to Earth
by becca85
Summary: I've only ever cried twice since attaining adulthood.


**A/N: For the record, this story is taking quite a few liberties with the huge gaping holes in Sid's background. I only have what various wikis have assembled, which is very little when it comes to Sid's life prior to the ME's office. To the best of my knowledge, Sid has never shed a tear on the show. I'm trying to remember all of his significant episodes and I don't remember ever seeing him cry, so I hope that remains the case and no one proves me wrong. Another note: For the sake of my story here, I am placing Sid somewhere in his early-to-mid-50s. With that being established, he's somewhere in his early-to-mid-30s for the first event that's spoken of. Lastly, this story will have a better impact on you, the reader, if you pause before each paragraph (about a second or two). Basically, don't rush through it. Pace yourself. That is all. ;P**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or ideas created by Anthony Zuiker, Carol Mendelsohn and Ann Donahue. I borrowed them for the entertainment and amusement of my audience. **

**SUMMARY: I've only ever cried twice since attaining adulthood.**

**SPOILERS: "Pay Up" (5x25)**

**GENRE: Drama**

**RATING: PG-13**

**DATE: May 26, 2011**

**::~*~::**

I've only ever cried twice since attaining adulthood. It's not an emotion I would willingly display in front of others, as I grew up hearing constantly that it was a sign of weakness. Growing up, I used to hide in my room whenever I felt the need to break down, but as time went on, the need slowly dissipated. I used to think that I became incapable of grieving for anything, whether great or small.

Then _she_ left...

My grandmother was my whole world. My refuge. My escape. I looked forward to my visits with her, no matter how long or short they were. I knew I didn't have to pretend whenever I was around her. She encouraged me to be myself. Looking back, I think she was the only person I might have been able to cry in front of, if I had a need to, but I never did. I was so happy with her.

She ended up getting really sick the year I started as an ME's assistant. Over the course of several months, I saw her wither away in front of my eyes until she was gone. During all the bedside vigils, I never once shed a tear, only trying desperately to put on a brave face, to tell her that everything was going to be alright. In the end it didn't matter. I knew all the signs and I knew she was losing the most significant of all battles.

Did you know, the very day before she died, she actually berated me for mumbling that? I didn't think she had the strength to whisper, let alone shake a fragile finger at me and sternly tell me that she wasn't losing any battles. She insisted most wholeheartedly that she was right where she wanted to be, even if it wasn't where _I_ wanted her to be. I had to laugh at the picture she presented, lying there with the most lucid look in her eyes and the sternest expression on her face. How was I supposed to know that not even twenty-four hours later, that laughter would turn to tears that had been held deep inside for many years?

I hurried to the hospital after my shift had ended, wanting to tell her something amusing that happened to me that day, just so I could hear her laugh. I knew the moment I saw my mother outside the room with puffy red eyes, that something was very wrong. Without even waiting for an explanation, I pushed my way into the room and came to an abrupt stop just inside the door. She looked like she was sleeping, such a peaceful look on her face. But, her chest wasn't rising and the machines were keeping their own silent vigil over her, no longer needed, but there just the same. I moved over to the bed to take her hand, and, for the first time in twenty years, I cried. Once it started, it wouldn't stop, but I wasn't grieving just for her. She was the catalyst to twenty years of pent-up grief, but I knew she wouldn't mind if the tears were for more than her.

I was mourning for the anguish I felt after my first girlfriend broke up with me when I was only fourteen. I was mourning for my beloved golden retriever who had been my dearest companion since I was a toddler until cancer claimed him in my seventeenth year. I mourned for the rejection I had felt when my dream university denied me entrance, not once, but four times, as I reapplied every year. I was mourning for my father who, despite his high expectations and tough exterior, was loved by his only son, even though I couldn't muster up the tears for the man who always told me crying was a sign of weakness. Most of all, I mourned my beloved grandmother, who loved me enough to accept my strange eccentricities and who always told me that crying was a sign of strength, not weakness.

I only cried that one time, but I felt it was enough. Grandmother would understand, wherever she was. One time, though, wasn't enough to break the years of conditioning and I never grieved again...

...Until you came and I cried again for the first time in another twenty years.

I never really had the opportunity to get to know you better, just a few conversations in passing here and there, but I know that the team really loved you. Every one of them, though some more than others. I always thought that your name was perfectly suited to you. A guardian angel. That's how I always thought of you. You watched over them, and protected them. You always made sure everyone was happy and healthy, even going out of your way to ensure it was so. How are they going to get along without you? How is _he_ going to make it without you?

I've known him for several years now and I have never seen him behave around others the way he behaved around you. You brought out something in him that no one else had ever seen before and I think he became a better person because of you. He's out in the hall right now. He wants to come in and see you, and I don't have the heart to turn him away. He'll wait until I beckon him in, but I can't let him see me like this. No one here has ever seen this moisture upon my cheeks, and as poorly as this reflects upon my character, I refuse to let them start now. My red eyes will stand as testament enough.

Why did you have to be so cruelly taken away? You were so young, so full of life, a life I knew would be happy, because you had the love of a wonderful man who practically worshiped the ground you walked on. If I knew it would work, I would petition the Lord above to take me in your stead.

You must think I'm crazy, shedding such precious tears over you, someone I hardly knew. Perhaps I'm grieving more for the team and the huge gaping hole that was left in your passing. I'm grieving for them and the harsh blow that was dealt as they were savagely reminded of just frail life is. You showed them, though, how strong the will of a human could be as you fought valiantly for your life, but Death showed how much stronger his will was by whisking you away.

I need to let him in now. If I don't soon, he'll barge in anyway, before we're both ready. I know you loved him so much and that you will live up to your name, watching over him in these critical hours and days as he struggles to learn how to survive without you. I only hope that you give us the strength to help him, as you are only too aware that he can't do this on his own. He needs us now more than ever.


End file.
